“If you loved me, you would already be on your knees, princess.”
And he took advantage of it, the way he always did. His hazel eyes flash in my mind with the feeling of his fist pulling on my hair.
“What a pathetic piece of broken cunt you are.”
Once done, he released me with a shove that sent me stumbling back into my suitcase.
“Now, get the fuck out.”
My heart shattered into shards that cut through me with every ragged breath.
I left the apartment, speeding through the streets like a racecar driver, ignoring red lights and taking sharp turns as if I were trying to escape myself.
It didn’t work.
Until I arrived at a deserted parking lot. I chugged a whole bottle of sleeping pills, only to wake up two days later in Winnipeg’s psych unit.
A week after, Eric sent me a text that made me question why I ever wanted to go back to him.
“Heard about your little pity party at the hospital. Such a mess without me, huh?”
Somehow, the horribleness of the words slapped me into reality better than any physical blow. He didn’t want me back. That man only wanted a toy to torture. And I decided I would do everything in my power—so little it might be—to stay the fuck away from him.
Eric is still known as the “good guy” in his circle, and I was afraid no one would believe me if I spoke up about what he did. I never had the courage to tell anyone. Partly because he reminded me countless times before he was a good person, and no one would believe me if I told them otherwise.
“So, you better be a good girl.”
But I don’t want to be a good girl anymore. I want to be me. Without censorship, without tablets. And so, what if I’m a little unstable?
Something strange in my soul whispers that Kai appreciated the wild card in me last night. It kept him alive and safe.
The sight of Kai pushes Eric away from my thoughts.
I wonder why his actions contradict the menacing reputation Kai has. Perhaps it’s a facade, a way to mask the vulnerability he keeps hidden. Or maybe he’s not as dangerous as the rumors make him out to be. Somehow, I doubt that. The scars, the scary veil in his eyes, the gun, the quiet control he has over himself. It all merges to support the theory.
“Your phone won’t stop buzzing,” he says.
I sigh and smile at Victor’s message, a photo of a woman reading on the beach.
I send him a thumbs-up so he knows I’m all right.
Kai’s voice pierces the silence and brings me back to the here and now. “Who’s Victor?” Curiosity mixes with rivalry, flashing in his golden eyes.
“An old friend,” I mumble, aware of the slight blush creeping up my cheeks.
I’m unaware of Victor is age, only that he’s old enough to be my grandpa. Old enough to understand things I leave unsaid and more.
The pad of my index traces the plastic chip hidden in my cell phone case, and I close my eyes to give this memory the place it deserves.
Victor paced back and forth in the break room the day I returned to work.
“Eric dumped me, and I’m having a hard time dealing with it,” I said right away to ease the worry straining his wise blue gaze.
“Good riddance.” A shudder unfurled from his toes to his shoulders until a relieved breath made his chest sink. “Do you have somewhere to stay?” he asked with thick white brows knitted together.
“I stayed with Arietta and Donovan a bit.”
He nodded, lost in thought. “Clever.”